Kiss You
by America is Awesome
Summary: Nearing the end of the Kira investigation, Light finally rejects Misa's affection towards him. She knows why. She's always known why; after all, when you love someone, it shows. Hints at future L and Light. [a former ONESHOT].
1. Woman's Intuition

**Good morrow ladies and gents. Ah? What's this? Oh, it's just a story I began—oh that's right—over ELEVEN months ago. Them's the breaks kiddo, I may be a procrastinating slacker who completely forgets about things for almost a YEAR, but hey, I finished it today. Yippee.**

 **I may expand it as a chaptered story, but as for now, it stands well enough alone as a oneshot.**

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"No, Misa; I don't want to kiss you," Light repeated, holding out his arm to keep the blonde out of his personal bubble.

The girl pouted and whined, "Why not?!"

"Because I don't like you," Light groaned.

Misa wilted onto one of the stairs they had been standing on.

"But then why are you dating me?" she asked in a weak voice, eyes watering with rejection.

Light looked at his wrist; the scarring from months of being handcuffed to a certain insane detective was still highly visible. It would probably last forever.

But he liked it.

"Light-kun," Misa trembled out, trying not to cry.

Light sighed and admitted, "Because Ryuuzaki told me to."

The girl bit her lip and held her arms protectively. She finally asked something, but her question was too quiet to hear.

"What was that?" Light asked.

She wiped her eyes quickly with the back of one hand, careful not to smudge her mascara. She repeated the question, but still too softly.

"I can't answer your question if I can't hear you; speak up," Light critiqued, getting tired of the girl's constant neediness. He wanted to hurry back the investigation, though he knew that there was nothing left for them to find now that he'd killed Higuchi.

Misa took a moment to gather up her power, then she sucked in a deep breath, stood up, and practically shouted, "IS IT _RYUUZAKI_ THAT YOU WANT TO KISS?! HUH?! IS IT?!"

Light jumped backwards, startled at the sudden outburst and shocked by the question. His breath hitched in his throat.

Misa stepped forward offensively, "IS THAT WHY YOU FOLLOW HIM AROUND LIKE A LOVESICK PUPPY?!"

Light's eyes were wide, his face bright red. He stuttered something that sounded similar to "uh" before Misa continued, "IS THAT WHY YOU ALWAYS DO WHAT HE TELLS YOU?! IS THAT WHY YOU TOYED WITH MY EMOTIONS THROUGHOUT THE ENTIRE INVESTIGATION?!"

Light flinched, backing into the wall of the stairwell.

"ANSWER ME!" Misa yelled at him.

He forced his eyes open to see the girl standing a foot in front of him with her fists on her hips, fuming.

"I-I-I," he stuttered out, looking Misa in the eyes. He looked away, his face burning bright and his legs feeling weak. He swallowed in nervousness.

He closed his eyes, preparing to get hit, while he whispered out, ". . . yes."

He expected her to hit him. He _wanted_ her to hit him—he knew that he deserved it. He hadn't liked her from the start, but he'd used her the whole time. Even when he didn't have his memories he didn't like her; he only pretended to be her boyfriend because L had said that it would help the investigation. Misa was a fine person overall, but she was never someone he was romantically attracted to. . . L, however, was someone he was _immediately_ attracted to. He had tried to ignore it, but the more he had to pretend to be in love with this girl and the more he had to kiss her bubblegum flavored lip gloss covered lips, the stronger he yearned for the man on the other side of the chain.

But the more he thought about loving L and the more he thought about kissing L's presumably sugar coated lips, the worse he felt about himself and the feelings he was harboring. He felt bad about himself and he even felt empathy for Misa; he had imagined how he would feel if their positions were all flipped around: if L told Light that he loved him, if L kissed him, if L allowed him to repeatedly express his love for the detective . . . and all because L was ordered to. If L did this because he wanted to please Misa . . . because he was in love with Misa . . . Light knew he would feel so torn that he'd be beyond repair. The broken trust would be the worst—not that he and Misa had ever developed the trust that he'd gained with L. But still, if Misa actually did love him, he knew that the pain she would feel would be real. He couldn't do this anymore.

But he hadn't wanted to confess about L. He could only too clearly imagine how it would feel to be rejected after however long it had been and—as if that wasn't bad enough—to also find out that your supposed lover was in love with someone you both knew. But it was too late; it was in the open. Maybe it was women's intuition, or maybe that was the only thing she could think of, but either way, he knew he deserved whatever she threw at him.

He waited.

But the strike never came.

He peeked his eye open only to find Misa standing still in front of him, her hands on her hips and her face smug.

When he looked at her fully, she finally hissed out, "I freaking _knew_ it! You absolute meany!"

He wanted to apologize; he truly did feel sorry for all the trouble he had caused her, but the words were caught in his throat and he just stared at her.

"You are such a wimp," she scoffed, locking out her hip.

He blushed again.

"No I'm no—" he began.

"Yes you are," she interrupted. "You've liked him this whole time and you still faked love for me? What is WRONG with you? That is so weak, Light-kun."

His face turned a deeper shade of red.

"Ugh," she groaned, wiping her eye again, "I shouldn't have ignored it. Light-kun, it hurts to be used."

He nodded empathetically. He'd have felt better if she'd hit him or if she'd bawled on the stairs, because being lectured over something he already knew was wrong felt worse that being hit. Was she so upset that she was calm? He had to admit, he didn't know how he would react to L's rejection/confession in their figmented alternate selves.

She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and said, "So you must be in pain then, since Ryuuzaki has been using you like this."

He looked at her again, noting that her eyes were still watery. Was she feeling sorry for _him_? Was she really trying to console _him_?

"He hasn't been using me," he denied, looking away.

Misa pouted her lip, pitying Light's denial.

"Light-kun," she began, composed, "It is Ryuuzaki that you want to kiss . . . it is Ryuuzaki that you follow around as if you're still chained to him . . . it is Ryuuzaki that you obey."

Light looked away and spoke almost silently, choking out, "So?"

Misa shook her head and stated, "Don't you think he'd figured that out from the beginning?"

 _From the beginning,_ echoed in his mind. Light added another dimension to his flipped scenario that he constantly guiled over: If he found out that Misa ordered L to fake love for Light while she _knew_ full well that L wanted _her_ . . . Light tensed up. Now he knew why Misa was pitying him; if she really did like him, then she wouldn't want him to feel the heartache she felt, especially if she knew she'd at least be tempted to do the same thing Light did had their positions been flipped. She certainly would have pretended to be dating L had Light told her to.

What was wrong with them all?

Then his heart wrenched as he put himself back into his own hypothetical shoes: if L had known about Light's feelings and _still_ had him pretend to date Misa . . . Light would feel crushed and prematurely rejected. Had he been rejected without even confessing?

"Light-kun, if you need to cry, it's okay."

"I don't need to cry," Light immediately rejected, further embarrassed by having a girl tell him he could cry over being rejected. But it wasn't for _certain_ that L had already rejected him; Light would have to do something he never had intended to do—confess to L how he felt.

"You know," Misa began, still trying to help, "Ryuuzaki's not very good with emotions."

"Yeah," Light responded weakly, biting his lip, "I know that."

Misa felt the anguish in his tone and she clarified, "No, Light-kun, I mean that it's possible that he might not have understood your feelings for him. He might not have realized _why_ you obey him and follow him and…" she breathed in and looked away, mumbling, "…and stared at him when you were supposed to be staring at _me_."

"Why are you doing this?" Light asked, looking her in the eyes; she was still crying slightly, like the tears just wouldn't give up. She shouldn't be the one consoling him and pushing for him, she should be the one angry and sad and yelling at him.

She looked at him, her brow furrowing. She gathered air in her cheeks as if she didn't want to say anything, but after a moment of that, she finally yelled, "Because Misa-Misa wants you to be happy! IS THAT NOT NORMAL?!"

She pounded on his chest with her fists while yelling, "ISN'T IT NORMAL TO WANT SOMEONE IMPORTANT TO YOU TO BE HAPPY?!"

Light flinched back against a stair and fell directly on his butt with and umph. Misa smacked his knee one final time before ending her weak attempt at assault before flatly asking, "So are you going to grab for happiness or just flinch away like the coward you've been?"

Light moved to stand, but gave up and covered the red that was returning to his face. He groaned out from behind his hands.

"Speak up," Misa mimicked his earlier words.

He threw his head back with his face still covered and confessed, "I'm scared."

"Why?"

He put his head back down, making Misa raise a brow at his theatrics. She silently let out a breath and sat next to him on the step. She put her hand on his knee and softly repeated, "Why? What scares you?"

He finally uncovered his face and looked at her, admitting, "I've never felt like this before . . . I-I've—I've," he took a breath, "I don't know how to tell him how I feel and I don't want to be rejected. I guess."

Misa stared at him. She couldn't remember why she had fallen for him other than his looks. For some reason, she had practically thought of him as her savior, even though he hadn't been around to save her family or to save her from that obsessive employee.

But just because she couldn't remember why, didn't mean the feelings left. She cared deeply for Light and his anxiousness made her heart ache with empathy. She didn't want to rush her words and accidentally ruin his life.

"Light-kun," she began. When he looked into her eyes, she felt like he was begging for her help, for her wisdom, for anything other than whatever was torturing his own mind. She settled with a simple question, "What is the worst that he could do, Light-kun?"

His frown went deeper and she interjected before he could say a thing, "He could say that he doesn't feel the same way."

She thought to herself judgmentally, _'he could probably say he doesn't feel_ at all _and it wouldn't be a lie.'_ She knew better than to say that.

Out loud, she continued, "Worse so, he could feel grossed out, but based on the amount of sugar he puts on everything, I'd say nothing grosses him out."

She saw the corner of his lip twitch up for a moment and grinned inwardly at her success. She continued, "He might tell everyone. He might want you to be removed from his presence." Light frowned again, but Misa knew she had a point to make. "How does that make you feel?"

He looked defeated when he whispered, "Not great, Misa."

"But what's the worst that could happen if you _don't_ tell him?"

He blinked at her. "Things just go on as they are," he answered with a questioning look.

He jumped when Misa bellowed out a buzzer sound. "Wrong!" she yelled and continued, "That's not even close; that's one of the better outcomes. Face it, Light-kun, you're still being a coward and just wishing for the best. You think that if you do nothing then everything will be okay: he won't notice, you'll continue working together—maybe even on future cases, he'll end up falling for your charm and _he'll_ make a move on _you_."

She continued, "But really, the worst that could happen is that he knows, doesn't care, and uses you a bit more. He might not ever notice your feelings and you two never see each other again after this case and he goes and gets married to some other genius that isn't you and has five little genius adorable children."

"Is this supposed to make me feel better?"

"I'm not done," she scolded. "Now, what's the _best_ that could happen if you simply say something along the lines of, 'hey, you, I really like you and I want to hug you and kiss you and do all the things I was supposed to do with Misa-Misa with you'?" Her trying to mimic his voice finally made him smile sadly.

He rubbed his temple and admitted, "Alright, I get it."

"So you're going to try and reach for your own happiness?" she chirped, clapping her hands together.

"I—yeah, I guess so." He put his head back into his hands and groaned out, "I still don't know what to say."

Misa smiled and patted his back. "Be blunt, be poetic, just kiss him, whatever feels right," she threw out with a smile.

After a bit of silence, Light finally stood up, fairly composed, and offered his hand to Misa. As he helped her up, he muttered out a thank you.

"What was that?" Misa asked with an amused look.

He just crossed his arms and looked away.

"I'm sorry," she stated falsely before she placed her hand behind her ear and teased, "but I couldn't quite hear you; could you repeat that?"

A blush formed on his cheeks as he gave in, "I said thank you." He looked off to the side in embarrassment; he was _not_ used to thanking people nor for needing help at all.

Misa giggled. "Good luck, Light-kun," she bid before trotting away.

Light just watched her go, amazed by what had just transpired.

. . . but, now what?

His eyes widened at the thought: was he supposed to fess up _TODAY?_

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 **See? It's a decent oneshot that I do probably intend to make chapters out of. What thinks you? You made it this far, you may as well review a sentence or two. Can you find where I stopped writing and picked it back up? I think you can if you look hard enough.**

 **That's all from me, folks. Have a swell rest of your day…or night, since you're probably reading before bed.**

 **~Aia~**


	2. Father's Intuition

**Fine,** _ **fine.**_ **It has become a chaptered story. Are you happy now? Ya'll're greedy (but, fear not, I understand your greed). Go forth then and explore what this fine chapter has to offer.**

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After the seventeenth time Light huffed and glared at the monitor, L finally asked, "Light-kun, what is bothering you?"

The boy turned to look at L to find that he was staring with a concerned—or maybe just an intrigued—expression. Light put his mask of calmness back on and replied, "No, it's nothing."

L pushed on, "Then has the computer offended you in some way?"

It was intrigue, then.

"No, Ryuuzaki, it's nothing," Light assured.

"Maybe the brightness is too high for your eyes?" he provoked further, chipping away at Light's calm exterior.

" _No,_ it's _nothing_."

"Then perhaps the wires are—"

"I am _fine_ , Ryuuzaki," Light interrupted sternly, his eye twitching in annoyance.

L made a tsk sound before mumbling audibly, "So easily irritated lately."

Light wanted to replace his mask and let the look and feel of indifference wash over him, but L was much too observant to be fooled. Light had been bothered by L's observational skills when they had first met, but he had quickly grown to be impressed to the point that he was almost pleased with the detective's ability to understand him without having to speak. . . it could still be annoying though, _especially_ when L tried—and typically _succeeded_ —to irritate him.

"We're getting nowhere in this investigation," Light stated along the same topic for anyone eavesdropping. It had been a few hours since he and Misa had talked and since he decided _not_ to have her retrieve the other death note, he quite clearly knew that nothing was going to go anywhere in the investigation.

"So it seems we are not," L agreed, still staring at the boy. Light tried to continue whatever it was he was supposed to be doing with the computer, but L's words broke his concentration—as usual, "I have reason to believe that this is not what is bothering you, Light-kun."

Well duh, of course that wasn't what was bothering him, obviously. What bothered him was that L, the man he'd so poetically fallen in love with, was sitting next to him. Not only that, he could get over that, but Light had no way of knowing if L knew about these feelings. Now _this_ was quite bothersome, especially now that Misa had laid out all of the options—which were like, three: he could ask L if he knew, he could tell the detective his godforsaken feelings, or he could do nothing and continue wallowing in this self-placed limbo.

"Zero progress _is_ bothersome," Light argued to both L's statement and to his own life situation.

Silence.

Light groaned inwardly before continuing. "Ryuuzaki," he began in the same tone his mother had used when he'd asked too many questions as a child, "Could you please desist with the staring?"

L tilted his head and then nodded once as if agreeing to his own thought (he certainly hadn't agreed to Light's request because he was STILL staring). "Everyone," L suddenly addressed to the entire room, "We are making no progress in this investigation; take the rest of the day off and use this lull of peace to be with your families. We will meet again next week or if we receive word of any Kira activity."

Light blinked. Did that . . . really happen?

His father cleared his throat and let his deep voice carry across to them, "Ryuuzaki?" He didn't need to ask the full question since his question was always the same, "What about Light?"

L didn't hesitate when he looked Soichiro in the eyes and stated, "Of course he is free to go with you."

Light blinked again, his jaw slacking. Did THAT really happen?

Good god he needed some alone time simply to _think_ —not that he was stalling or anything . . .

Or was this a trap? Maybe L suspected that Light knew where the other death note was and expected him to go get it. Of course then L would have Light followed. Maybe he already planned to have Light followed or otherwise watched.

Maybe it really was just free time to be with his family?

No, no; there's no way L would just offer free time if he didn't already have a scheme.

. . . Right?

"Is this a trap?"

"A trap for what, Light-kun?" the detective questioned, staring into Light's eyes again. He noticed the boy jump as if slightly startled; only L would have caught such a miniscule movement.

Light grasped quickly for a response; he hadn't meant to ask his question verbally. "To spy on me," he answered. That was a valid suspicion for him to have, right?

L tilted his head and pointed out, "If Light-kun is not Kira, then he has no trap to fall into."

"That doesn't mean I want to be spied on, though," Light retorted.

L opened his mouth to counter, but Soichiro interrupted as he neared the two, "Ryuuzaki, you have made my boy paranoid."

L glanced to the side and mumbled too quietly for the man to hear, "He's _always_ been paranoid."

Light shot him a glare and whispered aggressively, " _No_ , I have always been _observant_."

L looked back at him and leaned in to accept the hostility while whispering back, "You are paranoid, _I_ am observant. Paranoia is putting a piece of paper between your door and doorframe to see if people go into your room. Observant is seeing it and putting it back."

Light scoffed, "Observant would have been also noticing the pencil lead in the hinge—which I found broken—and noticing the angle of the doorknob itself—which I found tilted." Light saw L's eyes widen at his statement and he smirked. "But I suppose you didn't _observe_ those two things did you?"

L's eyes narrowed for a moment, choosing not to respond to the bait, "That's still paranoid of you, Light-kun."

"Is it? Because it _was_ justified considering that you placed cameras in my bedroom."

"The entire house, actually."

"But _mostly_ in _my_ room."

Soichiro sighed massaging his temple with his hand as he watched the two have their bickering side battle. He had stopped walking toward them when they began and was now standing in the middle of the investigation room just waiting. They were certainly a sight to behold if you knew either of them personally: though it wasvery unlike either of them to behave this way, it wasn't at all uncommon for the two to behave this way with _each other_.

They seemed to be in their own world together, apart from anyone else.

. . . even if there were plenty of people in the room.

. . . which there typically were.

. . . including now.

He cleared his throat and watched them turn to him, both of their eyes still narrowed from the mini battle that had just transgressed.

"Light, come with me," he ordered in his chief voice to take the decision away from either of them.

"Yes, dad," Light answered, immediately standing from his seat to obey.

L was letting him go? L was really letting him leave? Like, just _leave?_ Light couldn't believe it.

No, really: he could _not_ believe it, there was definitely something L was plotting, but he'd have to wait to figure it out.

After everyone had packed their stuff and got onto the elevator to leave, Light called out, "See you, Ryuuzaki."

From inside the elevator, he watched the detective tilt his head and bring up his hand as if waving good bye.

"Bye-bye, Light-kun," L called, keeping his hand raised.

Light continued to look at L as the elevator doors began to close and although he tried to tear his eyes away from L, they lingered on his face until the elevator doors finally shut.

And Soichiro noticed.

Just as he _always_ noticed.

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After a few minutes of driving without speaking, Soichiro turned off the radio and plunged them into silence. Light looked at his father, knowing the man had something to say.

"Light," his father began, saying his name slowly but with the same resounding tone of authority his voice always held.

"Yes?" Light asked, still looking at his father and waiting for him to get to the point.

His father cleared his throat, making Light just a bit nervous. He took a deep breath and stated, "We—you and I—we need to talk."

Oh THAT was _never_ a good sentence to hear.

"Is it about the investigation?"

His father breathed out of his nose heavily, stalling for time. Finally, he spoke slowly, "It is about . . . Ryuuzaki."

Light looked away from his father and stared at the road. "Oh," he stated calmly although his heart had just beat against his chest. "Well then," he began. He paused, now _he_ was trying to stall. "If that's the case, do you mind if we have this talk somewhere else?"

Soichiro hesitated with confusion, "Well, sure, I guess, why not? But, uh, _why?_ "

"Two reasons, really. One: I don't want you to be distracted while you drive. And two . . ." Light rubbed his hands together nervously as he answered, "Because I'm pretty sure that Ryuuzaki's got your car tapped." With that statement, Light glanced directly into the rearview mirror, _exactly_ where Ryuuzaki did, in fact, have both a visual and auditory surveillance.

Back in the Investigation building, Ryuuzaki tsked for no one to hear.

Soichiro nodded, "Ah, I see. He probably does." The man sighed and continued, "I'd prefer that we have this conversation before we get home."

Light bit his lip. God this was awkward. "The park should be fine."

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It was awkward—the short drive to the park, parking, walking from the car to a secluded bench—it was all so very uncomfortable.

They sat. Light waited; he certainly was not going to bring up the topic: if his dad wanted to talk about it, then his dad would have to bring it up. That was fair.

An eternity of about 3 minutes passed by before his father finally prompted, "So."

After it became clear that the man wasn't going to continue, Light repeated, "So?"

Soichiro straightened his back and then hunched over to rest his forearms on his knees. He then took in a deep breath only to let the air fill his cheeks as he let it out moments later. If Light was sure about anything, it was that his father was not very good in situations he hadn't trained for.

"Light," he began again, looking somewhat anew.

Again, the boy waited for more words before realizing that his father wasn't continuing the sentence. "Yes?" he asked. He wasn't exactly wanting the questions to start, as he suspected they might be similar to Misa's observations—if _Misa_ had noticed, then it was pretty conceivable that his father had as well—but he kind of just wanted to get the most awkward part over with. If he could get passed the confrontation he anticipated, then the rest wouldn't be so bad.

Probably.

Possibly.

Hopefully.

"You are my son," Soichiro stated, following the rules he'd set for himself back when he did interrogations: facts and clarifications first, speculations to follow.

"Mhmm," Light agreed, looking around at the grass for a distraction.

"And you know that all I want for you is happiness, correct?"

"Correct," he confirmed again, spotting a dragonfly.

"And I realize that, though you are my son, you are nearly an adult."

"Mhmm," Light agreed, though in _most_ countries, he already _was_ an adult . . .

"And you do have the right to keep secrets, so I understand if you do not wish to answer my questions. But since you _are_ my son, I ask that you consider honesty with me. Understand?"

"Understood." Light was thankful for that considerate dragonfly as a distraction; if not for that sweet little prehistoric insect, what would he have to stare at?

His father did his breathing technique before he asked, "Your feelings for Ryuuzaki: they are not simply platonic, correct?"

Ah, there it finally was. Politely worded, Light had to admit.

"Correct," Light admitted allowed, nearly choking on his own saliva. This was his _father_ asking for confirmation on his _son's_ affections for the best detective known today . . .whom which they _both_ so happened to work with.

Soichiro nodded and added, "Beyond platonic in the sense that you would like the two of you to be as close as your mother and I are, yes?"

"Closer." Ugh, those words slipped out of his mouth faster than Light could think to just _agree_ with the statement. Dragonfly, dragonfly, dragonfly . . . he could still feel his cheeks heating up as he tried to _un_ -hear his last response.

"I suspected this," his father stated simply, leaning his back onto the bench and slouching, relaxed.

That was it?

"That's it?"

"Hmm?"

"That's all you wanted to ask?" Light asked looking directly at his father, very confused.

Soichiro had his eyes up on the sky, watching a cloud. "I just want you to be happy, Light. Does Ryuuzaki make you happy?" He did a slide glance at Light, knowing the answer already.

Light thought about it. Happy? _Happy?_ No, not at all: L had never particularly done anything outright that should make Light feel happy. At least . . .he didn't do it on purpose. But then . . . Light was never happier than when he played tennis or chess with L, or when they had their conversations that _no one_ else understood, or when they bickered, or when L actually smiled for any reason. . .

Light blushed fleetingly and answered, embarrassed, "He does. He doesn't mean to, but he does."

Soichiro smiled and responded, "That's the best kind of person to be with."

"What do you mean?"

"If someone makes you happy without ever having to try, then you can sit in silence and still be pleased with the company. If someone has to try, it's more difficult," his father explained.

"Oh. Yeah, I guess so," Light agreed after processing his dad's words.

"And I've only ever seen him smile with you, Light. . . even though he thinks you're the first Kira," his dad informed, mumbling the last bit slightly, still resenting the fact that Light was L's number one suspect.

The dragonfly left and Light felt his cheeks heating up. Maybe L didn't quite return Light's feelings, but that didn't mean he didn't like Light _at all._ They were definitely at least friendly with each other. That was better than no feelings whatsoever. Maybe Light had a chance . . .? Light was afraid to get his hopes up.

"So," his father continued, slouching more comfortably, "You're not going to wait for _him_ to notice, are you?"

Light groaned. He didn't want to have this conversation _again_ —he hadn't even wanted this conversation the _first_ time with Misa.

"I raised you better than that, Light," his father scolded, reading Light's lack of response, "If you want something, you have to try for it, you can't expect it to just fall into your hands."

"I _know,_ dad," Light whined, hearing this lecture for the second time in one day. "I'm not prepared."

"Take your time, by all means, just be careful that you don't take too long," his father warned. His father sat back and chuckled, recalling, "Actually, I almost missed my chance with your mother by waiting too long. Did I ever tell you that?"

"Not directly, but yes," Light affirmed.

"Well I feel like telling you directly now," Soichiro informed, smiling to himself at the memory, "She had just graduated from high school and was planning to leave for some rural town to be closer to her grandparents; she wasn't sure what to do back home where we grew up and since she had no ties there, she had no reason to stay."

Light didn't really care, but he nodded along anyway.

"I told her about my feelings for her just before she was about to buy the ticket and she agreed to hold off on living there as long as I went there with her to visit. I found out later that month, when we visited, that her grandparents had been talking her up to some other young buck. So if I hadn't gone, she might have fallen in love with him!"

Light still did not care.

"Dad," he interjected, "I get the moral here."

"Well good."

"Dad," Light said, after a pause, "Aren't you . . .upset?"

It was Soichiro's turn to be confused. "About what?"

Light swallowed and choked out, "That I . . . like a _guy_?"

"Why would that upset me?"

This was incredulous; Light had not anticipated this type of response. He stared at his hands as if they would give him a response.

"I only care about your happiness and your wellbeing," his father repeated from earlier, offering Light more of an explanation.

"But," Light complained, "Don't you care about, like, grandchildren or something?"

Soichiro burst out in a single bark of laughter, "Do you realize how absolutely _horrible_ you have _always_ been with children?!" He wiped his eyes at the ridiculousness of such a question. "Besides," he continued, "Sayu is wonderful with children and, based on what your mother has told me, Sayu is most certainly attracted to men. Beyond that, Light, I didn't have children so that I could have grandchildren."

Light gaped. This was all going surprisingly well.

Soichiro chuckled and slapped Light on the back.

"How're you feeling, my son?" he asked, smiling.

"Um," Light thought for a moment, "Pretty good, actually." And he _did_ feel pretty good. If all else failed, at lease his family was there for him. That was better than he ever would have hoped for; he had been so distracted with just his own feelings and perhaps how L would react, he never considered how his own family might feel.

"Good!" Soichiro's smile widened and he stood. "Let's go home then; your mother will be so excited to finally see you."

"Yeah," Light agreed, nodding.

He followed his father to the car and smiled slightly to himself.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. He could believe that, if only for a while.

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 **I…don't quite know where this is going…but hey, I like where it's going…wherever that is.**

 **What're your thoughts?**

 **~Aia~**

 **P.S. I would have uploaded this sooner, but ff had a 503 error for the past few days. Get your shit together ff.**


	3. Thank You, Sayu

**Hi. Been awhile, huh. Maybe not though, if you just started reading it all (Congrats to you!) and for everyone else, uh, sorry for the wait. . . though I'm not really sorry, shit, I still wrote it. So… Commence!**

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Light kept his eyes on his ceiling as he had been doing for the last 4 hours. He was bombarded with hugs and love and questions from his mother as soon as he and his father arrived at home. Not an hour later, when Sayu got back from school, he received the same responses from her. Then with less than another hour, his mother had completed dinner and he and his sister were called into the dining room.

So now, some 9 hours after getting home following months of being confined in the investigation tower, barely seeing more than 4 rooms of it, and 4 hours after finally, _finally_ getting some alone time… he was doing the exact same thing he had done before finding the Death Note so many months ago: Nothing.

Yes. _Nothing._

Unless staring at the blank ceiling while attempting and constantly failing to find a solution to many a problem and letting the mind slip into blankness counts as an activity, Light found himself doing absolutely nothing. He needed a solution that only he could come up with.

. . . but he _couldn't._

"Uggggggh," he groaned aloud, smacking his hands over his face. He dragged his fingers down his pouting face to put pressure on his eyelids.

"Um," he heard a small voice come from the direction of his door, "Is this a bad time?" the voice continued with a hint of amusement.

"Hey, Sayu," Light greeted without looking up. He was much too frustrated to feel embarrassed.

He heard her footsteps trot toward his bed. There went his solace.

"Boy trouble?" she asked, sitting on his bed.

His eyes opened and he sat up to stare at her in a dulled shock. He wasn't sure why he was still surprised when people knew. Apparently everyone knew. Great. Just fucking great.

He must have been wearing a 'how did you know' look, because Sayu answered, "I overheard dad telling mom."

Great. Even his mother. Fan-fucking-tastic.

"Look, Light, I know you probably don't want to talk about it, but do you really think staring at the ceiling is going to get you anywhere?" she asked, meeting his eyes.

Obviously. Light sighed and conceded, "I don't really know what to do, Sayu, it's not as simple as me liking someone."

"Well, that alone is pretty impressive," she interjected, grinning.

He suppressed a blush, "Yeah, yeah," he waved off, "but it really is much more complex."

"Yeah, yeah," she mimicked, "but it was you who made it difficult isn't it?"

Ah. Good job Sayu. "I can't just un-difficult the situation."

"Does he trust you?" She asked, abruptly.

"Eh," he hesitated, "no, probably not." Not that he should, given the whole Kira thing.

"Do you trust him?"

"Eh," he repeated in a higher pitch. L was often predictable; he had known that he would tap his dad's car among other previous scenarios, but _trust?_ "No, not really." Maybe a little?

Sayu gave him a dumbfounded look as she stated, "That doesn't sound like a healthy relationship, Light."

"Complex," he mumbled, reminding her why this situation was upsetting.

Sayu nodded, thinking. "Okay, let's try this," she crossed her legs and faced him on the bed as she continued, "If you were seriously injured, would you trust him to save you?"

"Yes," he answered immediately, "but," he added, "I wouldn't be surprised if he were the one that got me injured."

"Would you be mad?"

"No, why would I be mad?"

"Oh wow, Light, are you a masochist?" Sayu sweat dropped.

"No, Sayu," he rejected firmly. "I just, feel like it wouldn't be uncalled for; he'd have a reason."

"Light. . . what exactly did you do to this guy?"

"That's classified."

Sayu thought for a moment before leaning in and whispering, "Are you Kira?"

. . . What was that?

. . . Had she asked that question?

"Run that by me again," Light requested, his eyes narrowing slightly at Sayu's (*cough*correct*cough*) hypothesis.

Without missing a beat, Sayu repeated, "Are you Kira?"

. . . So . . . he _had_ heard her correctly? That seemed . . . strangely accurate and a bit out of nowhere.

After a few seconds of trying to remember L's university debut code-name, Light gathered his words and proceeded calmly, "Exactly how does my friendship with Ryuuga have anything to do with being Kira?"

She continued innocently, "I just have suspected it, is all. Is Ryuuga the famous detective L?"

Hot. Damn. Since when did Sayu never miss a beat?

"That's quite a story you've envisioned," Light retorted, scoffing.

"Yeah, but it's a true story, isn't it?" She asked, grinning sweetly.

. . . Well, yes.

. . . But no!

"That's ridiculous, Sayu," Light stated plainly, looking off to the side.

"Is it?" She pouted.

"Of course."

"Okay, fine, sure. But hear me out, K?" she asked, shifting her weight back and forth excitedly.

He sighed, "Fine."

"Okay!" She clapped her hands together and began, "Well, the heart attacks started happening to the bad people when you were still in high school. You seemed pretty normal, but just a little off, I guess, like, you ate a lot of apples and chips and didn't help me as much with math as you normally did."

Light began to feel a bit nervous.

"Anyway," she continued on, "Before you started college, a lot of bad people started dying, and I mean a LOT. You know, like you had a lot of free time or something. But then, when you started college, the bad people started dying more when you didn't have class, but that only happened for like, a week or two or something…" she paused, trying to recollect the information.

Light was beginning to feel extremely nervous. When did Sayu become so observant?

"Oh! And the guy, Ryuuga, you didn't seem to like him much on stage, but then you hung out with him twice or three times or something; I heard you guys played tennis and then went out for lunch. And then you disappeared for a long time and I heard that Ryuuga stopped going to class," she explained.

Oh dear.

"In conclusion: Ryuuga is L and you are Kira," she finished, smiling her proud smile.

. . . What exactly was he supposed to say to that? It wasn't perfect, but it sure wasn't wrong.

He must have stayed silent for too long, because Sayu's smile morphed into an impish grin, "I knew it!"

"What?! I didn't say anything!" he rejected.

"Yeah, which means you told me everything!" she then squealed and clapped her hands, "This is so exciting! You're in love with L! THE L!"

. . . But being Kira is an okay trade off?

"Sayu," Light sighed, rubbing his temple, "Do you realize what accusing me of being Kira is accusing me of?"

"Yeah, yeah, killing bad people and probably some innocents to throw off your trail," she brushed off.

. . . Well . . . Okay.

"You're in love with L!"

"Please stop saying that," he groaned, falling back onto the bed. He put his hands over his face and groaned again.

"So adorable," Sayu snickered.

"Quick question: when did you get so observant?" Light whined from behind his hands.

She laughed and pulled his hands apart, "I'm very smart Light; math is my only downfall!"

"Well, then you tell me what I should do, if you're so brilliant," Light teased, pushing her off.

"Okay," she agreed immediately, "So he obviously knows already, right?"

Light's eyes widened, "I don't think so."

Great, now he was back to thinking about that dreamt up scenario where maybe L knew and was using Light to use Misa and L knew all along and just didn't seem to care or didn't have the emotions to care or just hated Light for being Kira or just didn't like guys or thought that guys who liked guys were sick or—

"Light!" Sayu yelled, snapping her fingers in front of his face.

"Huh, what?" he asked, brought back to reality.

"Jeez, you were looking hysterical."

"Yeah, well, boy trouble," he said sarcastically.

"But he must know, Light, why else would he keep you? He just doesn't have evidence right?"

Oh. She meant the whole Kira thing, not the whole in love with L thing. . . oh.

Light cleared his throat, embarrassed for his misunderstanding, "Oh, right, exactly."

Sayu raised her eyebrow but let it slide, "My question: is the evidence convicting?"

"Is that not what evidence would become?" he asked.

"Not necessarily. Would it hold up in court? Could it even be taken to court? From listening to the news, it seems unlikely that it's normal evidence. The second Kira even mentioned shinigami, so unless that's code for something, then supernatural evidence means nothing, yeah?" she explained, running her fingers through her hair to untangle it.

Light began to smooth his hair out as well. Sayu had a point. Telling the world that shinigami do exist and that Kira was using one of their killing devises —notebook didn't quite hold the ominous tone he was going for—and that the second Kira had another means of gathering information that only shinigami had didn't sound like a good idea. That sounded like mass hysteria (which was not what he wanted). But then, it also sounded fictional (like a manga or anime or movie…) and that was not something that people would accept as a conclusion to the Kira uprising.

L might just tell the world that Kira had accomplished what he had intended to do and was now gone or something. After all, L just wanted to win.

"He could still kill me," Light reasoned aloud. "I mean, he's L—er, _assuming_ that you're right and that he's L," he corrected, "means he can pretty much do whatever he wants; he's kind of above the law."

"He is not above the law; do you really think he, Mr. Justice, would let himself do that?"

"If he had evidence that he found reliable, maybe."

"Do you really think he wants you dead? Kira was his most involved and probably only supernatural case. Doesn't L like a challenge? And you, Light, are his only real companion. I bet you're the only equal he has," Sayu questioned.

"I don't know," Light admitted.

"Maybe it's worth finding out," she stated quietly, fully aware of the possible outcomes: Light could be killed, put into captivity, or—the most hopeful—allowed by L to work alongside him. But, of course, Light would probably never be allowed the freedoms he used to have. The question was, did Light want those freedoms if he couldn't have L? L was more likely to accept the Light that admitted he was Kira, it was doubtful that L would accept the Kira that pretended to be Light.

"You know," he said softly, after a few moments of shared silence, "I think it might be."

Sayu, after hearing those words, spoken by the boy she grew up with, the boy who had never before actually cared about anyone, jumped up and hugged him tightly.

"I'm so happy for you!" she cried, tears getting on his shirt.

He chuckled quietly and hugged her back, "Thank you, Sayu."

After they chatted a little longer about how he should go about confessing two equally important (to Light) secrets, Sayu stood up and walked to the door. Roughly one hour alone with Sayu had been much more productive than the four hours alone with his own thoughts.

"Light," she said again, waiting.

"Hm?" he asked from where he was now standing next to the bed.

"I'm really proud of you, you know. It takes courage to tell someone that you like them, especially in your case. So, um," she hesitated, feeling a little awkward, "I, um, I'm proud of you for coming clean to L about Kira." She smiled and left the room.

"Thank you, Sayu," he repeated, returning a genuine smile before she shut the door.

"OOH! One more thing!" she exclaimed just before she shut the door behind her.

He raised his eyebrows and said, "Yes?"

Sayu looked down the hall and whispered loudly with excitement clear in her tone, "Misa-Misa is the second Kira, am I right?"

Hot. Damn. That girl really hadn't missed much.

"Thank you, Sayu!" he sarcastically remarked, not answering her question. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and stated, "You may leave now."

Sayu giggled as she shut the door, "I knew it!"

He let out a breath and rolled his eyes: Sayu was much more perceptive than he'd ever known. He really needed to stop underestimating others. Regardless of how unaware he'd been before, Sayu had really helped him today. Short of knowing _everything_ (though she damn near did) the two siblings together had devised a whole plan to set in motion. Light just needed to adapt to the situations as they changed (which he had little doubt that he could achieve) and _begin_ (which…would be worse).

Since he knew there would be no Kira activity, he had a week now to wait. He planned to enjoy this week as it could be his last with freedom . . . or just his last ever.

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 **And that's chapter 3. Yep.**

 **Chapter 4 (I intend) will not include Light's week, but will get the confession plans in motion (yay progress). I love all of ya'll's reactions to Misa in the first chapter; I must say I find it surprising that no one asked me to kill her off anyway, so good on you for being humane (unless you still thought it, then shame on you, go think about your thoughts).**

 **~Aia~**

 **Ps. I would love to give ya'll an excerpt of chapter 4, but that would mean I'd have to have some of chapter 4 written already and you all know clear well that I do not.**


	4. Watari Knows

**Hey you guys. The Goonies anyone?**

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Okay, deep breath.

"Ryuuzaki, I need to talk to you," Light stated as soon as he entered the investigation room.

"Speak then," L allowed, twisting around to face him from his computer chair.

Okay, stay strong.

" _L_ , I need to talk to you _alone_ ," he clarified, pointedly replacing the pseudonym.

L's eyebrows moved in a minuscule upward stance and he tilted his head to the side, amused. During just three days of the lull, he'd already solved the remainder of the cases he'd originally set aside to take up the Kira investigation. He'd gotten absolutely no information out of the shinigami Rem during the entire week and since there was only one camera left in Light's room with no audio and at a nearly useless angle, the Kira investigation the previous week was a bust. Let's not forget the utter lack of Kira activity since Higuchi's "coincidental" heart attack. That being stated, L had had nothing to do for two days now. To be blunt, boredom had always been excruciatingly unbearable and so why not play with Light for a bit?

L hopped out of his chair and shoved his hands into his pockets. He said nothing until they exited the room.

"Does Light have a specific place he wishes to speak to me or shall we go to the next floor's conference room?" he asked in the hallway, making a point to drop the "kun."

"We have a conference room?" Light asked, distracted for a moment by the new information.

"Never been used," L enlightened, "Along with all the other rooms on every floor but this one."

For some reason, it had never occurred to Light that all the other floors in the building did in fact have rooms. He kind of assumed they hadn't been finished.

That didn't really matter though, did it? "Yeah, that room is fine," he answered.

They began walking up the stairs when L turned and stated plainly, having just remembered, "Of course, Watari will still have access to the video and audio."

"Yeah, I figured," Light shrugged, "Chances are pretty high that he already knows anyway, so whatever."

L didn't continue moving up the stairs, instead he abruptly stated, "Watari knows something I don't know?"

Light rolled his eyes, "I'm sure Watari knows a lot you don't know, the man's like 70 years old."

"71," L corrected and immediately continued almost frantically, "I meant about the case; Watari knows something I don't know about the case?"

"It doesn't really have anything to do with the case," Light stated, quieter. He was already nervous, the delay wasn't helping.

"Then for what reason are you wasting my time?" L huffed in Light's face.

Ouch.

Light couldn't make eye contact as he verbally defended himself, "It's personal about me, so I guess it does relate to the case."

"If it is about you, then _I_ should know about it!" L whined angrily.

"Well, if you would have shut up, then I already would have told you, but now I'm not sure I want to," Light retorted, feeling heavy in his chest. He was upset and he was mad and there wasn't really anything he could do about it.

"Watari will tell me if it is important."

"You JUST said that you should know everything about me!"

"Well, everything _is_ important about my Kira suspect, so he will tell me!"

"It has nothing to do with KIRA! It has everything to do with ME," Light yelled back, pushing L's shoulders to get him to back off. "If he does know, and it isn't a guarantee that he does, then I see why he kept it from you; you wouldn't know how to react. I bet you would be more of a jerk than you already are!"

Light was beginning to suspect that L really didn't have a clue about his feelings towards the detective. Here he was standing next to (arguably) the smartest person who could solve almost anything, unless, apparently, it was literally standing next to him. How could L know that Light liked him if the thought alone had seemingly never, ever, ever (ever, ever, ever, ever, ever . . .) crossed his mind.

"Why have you kept it from me then if it has 'nothing' to do with Kira?" L countered, surprised by Light's argument.

"Maybe because—despite being watched 24/7—I am generally a person who prefers that not everyone know my business."

"Privacy is a privilege, not a right. You willingly gave up that privilege to clear your name," L pointed out.

"Until you find a way to read my mind, withholding thoughts and opinions are not in violation of our agreement; my mind is allowed privacy," Light answered tightly. He was super pissed now; all of his emotions were just bottling up and he wanted to simultaneously _physically_ attack and _romantically_ attack the ignorant genius in front of him.

"Just tell me," L groaned out, pushing Light's shoulders.

"Don't push me."

"You pushed me first," L reminded.

Ah, yes he did . . . less than one minute ago.

Instead of admitting that, Light insulted, "Well, if you had a fraction of Watari's observation skills, maybe you would have figured it out already."

L felt that verbal hit.

"I _am_ observant!"

"Not when it comes to me, evidently," Light reputed. He was now sure that L didn't know; he would have brought it up already.

"I know everything about you!" L huffed again, whining.

"That's bullshit; if you knew everything, you wouldn't be so upset right now."

"I command you to tell me what it is!" L huffed, using his forearms to push Light against the wall.

As much as Light actually did quite like their current physical arrangement, his pride fought back with a simple, "Fuck off, L."

L's eyes widened; that was a newly used comeback. Even if it was petty and cheap, it hit strong. " _Excuse_ me?"

Light spoke slowly as if sounding out words to a child, "F-uh-ck aw-ff, Eh-l."

"How dare you speak to me like that!" L complained, pushing his body against Light's to pin him.

Light blushed inwardly and held back the urge to victoriously punch the air at the physical victory his body was receiving as well as to congratulate his pride at successfully flustering L.

One more victory, "Friends are allowed to cuss at each other, stupid." He wasn't going to physically fight back, no way. What if this was the last time L touched him? He was savoring this feeling; L's body heat? Hell yes.

L loosened his grip on Light slightly (unfortunately for Light) when he processed the word: friend. He really liked that word.

"Well then," L stated, looking away from Light's eyes.

Light coaxed, still happily pinned against the wall, "Well then?"

L cursed back weakly, "Well then fuck you too."

Light bit his lip as he held his breath and tightened his abs, but his face quickly grew bright red at trying to hold in the laughter that was threatening to escape at full force. That was so very clearly the first time L had ever had the need to cuss and for some reason, it was hilarious.

"Just laugh," L stated snappily, still avoiding eye contact as he let go.

With that, Light busted out in laughter, his eyes shut tight and his hands held his sides. L had cussed at him and it was so oddly adorable and flattering.

L shoved his hands in his pockets and awkwardly watched the boy laugh for 5 minutes straight. Light had calmed down and caught his breath a few times, but every time he looked back at L, he restarted his laughing fit.

After five minutes of laughing and 20 seconds of silence, L prompted, "You done?"

"Yeah, I think I'm good now," Light panted, wiping the tears from his eyes.

"Should I be offended by that?" L asked, not sure.

"If you want to be," Light admitted. Most people didn't appreciate being laughed at, especially for that long and even more so when they had been serious, but this was L and the whole thing had been just too funny.

"Too much effort," L admitted and then asked, "Did I use it wrong?"

Light covered his mouth to hold in the laugh; if he let one out now, he wasn't sure he'd be able to stop. He forced the laugh down and choked out, "No."

"Why was it comical?" L pushed, trying to understand.

Ugh, he was too adorable. "I never expected you to say it, I guess? And then it was—" Light cut himself off. It was adorable. It made him happy. It was just so unlike L to do that it made it exactly like what L would do.

"It was?" L prompted.

"Uh, just, I didn't anticipate it; caught me off guard with the," he paused again and chose the word, "delivery." The _adorable_ delivery.

"Are you going to tell me what you called me out to say?" L asked, changing back the subject.

"No, not directly, but I'll answer some other questions I'm sure you have."

"Fine. For now," L conceded as they continued walking up the stairs.

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They were now comfortably seated in the conference room with L crouching across the table from the normally seated Light. They had come to the agreement that L could ask questions that would lead him to solving the new mystery but that Light could be as vague or in depth as he wanted unless asked a yes or no question. Light already told L that it would be advisable to review some of the footage of him, especially during this meeting and during the staircase argument. L was unintentionally excited for this (it was something to do); Light always seemed to find a way to amuse him. Boring was boring, but Light always found a way to occupy his time with something fun.

L began, "You say it has nothing to do with Kira?"

"Yep."

"Do you think I would think the same?"

"Well, you think everything has to do with Kira; I could sneeze and you'd find a way to relate that to Kira."

L didn't agree…verbally, but they both knew it was true.

"It doesn't relate to the case?" he asked.

"You think everything does, so…" Light shrugged.

L silently cursed allowing Light to be vague, but at least he could review the film later. "If you _were_ Kira," L decided, changing into a hypothetical tense, "Would it affect the case?"

Light hesitated, "Elaborate, please."

"If you were Kira, would this variable affect you and/or your pattern?"

Light hesitated again: he hadn't killed L (nor wanted to) and he hadn't had Misa get the second notebook, so his original plans were completely ruined. The killing had stopped and that hadn't been part of the plan at all. He decided on his answer, "Yes."

L seemed to smile at finally getting some information.

Next question, "Does this variable affect the way you treat people?"

"People? No," Light answered. L was not people. "My turn," Light grinned, enjoying the tortured look on L's face.

L had also agreed that for every 5 questions Light answered, L had to answer one, too. He hadn't wanted to allow this, but it was the only way to get Light to agree to always answering a yes or no question. L naturally had more necessity to keep secrets, so if he found the question too invasive, he could ask for another question.

"Are you and Watari related?"

L thought. That wasn't invasive was it? It couldn't help Kira if Kira were to find out; they didn't have any linking names to each other. "Not by blood nor marriage, no."

Light seemed pleased.

"Light, does this variable affect me?"

"Yes," Light answered immediately, trying not to linger on the true depth of how it affected L.

"How?"

"That's what you're trying to figure out, isn't it?"

"Fine, does this variable affect Watari?"

"Not that I know of," Light answered. Who knew what would have happened had he gone through with his original plan?

L swallowed some of his pride and asked, "Is the variable obvious?"

"To many people, yep," Light admitted, unhappily.

"Will it help the case?"

"I'm pretty sure it won't directly help the case," Light told him, again.

"Do you want me to know it?"

Light hesitated again. The possible outcomes were on each end of the spectrum and everywhere in between: L could hate him for it, L could love him too, or something within that huge range including just not caring at all. Finally, Light answered, "Sometimes."

"Why do—"

"—ah, it's my turn," Light interrupted, pleased.

"Proceed."

"What's your favorite color?"

L was taken aback slightly, but Kira would learn nothing from that, he supposed. Did he have a favorite color? "Elaborate?" L requested.

Now Light was taken aback, "What do you mean elaborate?"

"I do not really understand what is a favorite color," L clarified.

Light wasn't entirely surprised: the man wore the same thing every day and it wasn't exactly colorful. "It's the color you like looking at the most."

"Oh, okay," L stated, pausing to think. Light couldn't help but to wonder what kind of childhood L had had, not even knowing what "favorite color" meant.

"I think light brown. Darker than honey but lighter than molasses," L answered, nodding to himself with a childlike grin. He must have been pleased at determining his favorite color.

Light wasn't even slightly surprised that L would describe colors in terms of sweet things.

"Why did you want to know that?" L asked, wondering.

"I just didn't know that about you and wanted to know it," Light stated plainly, shrugging his shoulders.

"Does Light have a favorite color?"

"Yeah, of course."

"What is it?" L asked, intrigued.

"I like grey."

"What type of grey?" L probed.

"All shades. I like the grey of a winter day and of a winter night. I like the grey that the sky turns just before a storm and just after it has finished," Light explained, grinning and blushing. It felt a little personal to talk about _why_ he liked a color. . . he left out that the sky of a winter's night was also the color of L's eyes.

Ugh, he was hopeless.

"I see, that can be a calming color. Do you think everyone has a favorite color?" L asked.

"Most kids do, I'm sure, but I think a lot of adults stop caring and teenagers can't decide on one anymore."

L nodded at the explanation and began again, "Well, anyway, back to the variable—"

"—ah, actually, that was five questions," Light interrupted again, grinning mischievously.

L stopped and counted, "Those counted?"

"Of course. Now, how old are you?" Light asked.

"No, different question," L rejected. Kira may be able to use ages somehow. Whatever, he didn't want to be thought of as weaker just because he wasn't even in his thirties yet.

"Fair enough, can I know your birthdate minus the year?"

"I suppose that couldn't hurt. October thirty first."

They continued back and forth for hours, lost in their own world. L didn't gain much information on "the variable," but he learned a lot about Light and about himself since Light kept asking child-like questions that L had never before taken the time to think about. The most surprising thing he learned was that Light didn't actually like coffee, he just needed the caffeine intake to keep up with L's working hours.

Light felt like he was floating, he was so happy. They rarely were able to converse normally and never had they had the chance for so long. He saw so many of L's expressions that his heart was overdosed and the signs were clear: his heart rate was elevated, pupils were dilated, face was constantly threatening to show color, among other signs of being repeatedly love-struck. He wasn't sure how many times L made him blush nor how many times he'd seen L laugh; he couldn't think straight, he was just so happy.

Ugh he felt like a little kid. He was almost upset that he'd never experienced these feelings sooner so that he would be more immune to them now, but at the same time, he wasn't sure that he would have fully appreciated the elicited feelings at a younger age. Now he was being sappy again.

Finally, L looked at the clock with surprise and stated, "It is 8pm, Light."

"What?" he choked out in shock as he whipped his head around to look at the clock. They hadn't spent _a few_ hours chatting, they'd spent _all day_. "We should probably get back to the investigation room."

"If anyone is even still there," L mumbled, knowing that the work ethic was plummeting now that Kira was doing nothing . . . not that he could blame them.

"I, uh, I have to talk to Watari first," Light informed, scratching a non-existent itch on the back of his neck.

L's eyes squinted with distrust, "You're going to tell him not to tell me."

"He already knows I don't want him to tell you if he's watched any of this," Light pointed out.

". . . True. He's probably watched all of it; it's the only thing happening."

"Oh come on, you don't know that," Light scoffed, "You have no idea what Matsuda could have been up to today."

L was silent.

What if the man had broken something?

What if he'd broken all the computers?

Or erased the digital files?

Burned the hardcopy files?

Burned the _room_?

Burned the _entire floor_?

And the worst part is that it would be entirely accidental. The man was only useful with a gun and yet he could definitely find a way to mess that up too, L was sure.

"L, Watari would have told you if he'd done something terrible," Light interrupted L's thoughts, knowing exactly what the detective was hypothesizing. "He probably just wouldn't stop talking and annoyed everyone."

L continued for him, "And then they forced him to go on a coffee run."

Light interjected, "And then came back late, because he got lost or forgot someone's order."

"And then spilt it on the carpet," L finished.

After a second, they looked at each other and added simultaneously, "Again."

They should have laughed . . . but it wasn't a joke.

Light coughed, "Well, I need to speak with Watari now."

"Fine, you'd do it anyway," L allowed, rolling his eyes.

Light smirked, "Thanks, L. I'll see you in the investigation room after."

L nodded and watched the boy head out the door toward the stairs.

"Light!" L yelled, remembering.

"Yeah?" Light hollered back, not bothering to return to the door.

"You need to call me Ryuuzaki once we get back," L warned.

"Yeah, yeah, sure, _L_ ," Light responded. Sarcastically? L wasn't sure.

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"Come in," Watari yelled, hearing Light knock on his door and seeing Light knock on his door via one of his many monitors.

They boy opened the door with an uncomfortable expression.

"Hey, Watari," he said slowly as if a question.

"Speak," Watari stated, watching the boy suffer.

Light began rolling his knuckles as he stood by the now closed door, "I'll just get right to the point: You know, right?"

"Most definitely," Watari answered simply. He had been watching the recordings as much as L had for any hint of Kira and had quickly discovered more signs of someone being enamored or smitten (not to say that he hadn't certainly found signs of Kira as well). If the eyes that followed L when L wasn't looking weren't glowing with affection (and, of course, sometimes—dare he say— _lust_ ) then Watari needed to retire.

Light blushed and stood more rigid, "And you won't tell him?"

"Young one," Watari addressed him, shaking his head, "If Ryuuzaki has not presumed it after reviewing what the two of you have now forced me to watch, telling him would do no good; he would not believe me."

"Eh, sorry about that," Light apologized weakly. He'd nearly forgotten that Watari had been watching the two of them while he was in his own floating little world.

"You should be sorry, that was by far the most painfully uncomfortable situation of which I've had no control over. I felt like I was peeping," Watari explained, trying to get it out of his head.

Light couldn't help himself, "You're a peeping tom, Watari? I never knew."

Watari held up his index finger, "You may be quiet now; I never agreed to watching you flirt for eleven hours." He could have been watching a drama series or reading a new novel! But no, he was stuck watching a real time attempted love scene in which one of the participants had no idea at all that it was supposed to be a love scene!

Light chuckled quietly and opened the door to leave, "Well thank you, Watari."

"Of course," Watari smiled. After all, it _was_ young love blossoming. How sweet.

"One more thing," Watari directed, suddenly recalling.

Light raised his eyebrows.

"How did you both know the events involving Matsuda today?"

Light's eyes widened and he tried to hold his lips together, but the more he envisioned it, the tighter his abs got and the harder it was to restrain.

And so began another laughing fit.

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 **That there was chapter 4. You're all lucky I wrote this at all; if I wasn't procrastinating for my finals, this wouldn't have seen the light of computer (or tablet or whatever you read on).**

 ***if Light's beautiful pronunciation of "fuck off" didn't quite match how you or the people in your region say it, that's probably because I'm pronouncing it in standard American English…Did my username not give that away? (Do I find America awesome? Not particularly, no, but would I even consider that as my username if I were not, in fact,** _ **American**_ **?)**

 **Now for chapter 5.**

 **~Aia~**

 **p.s. I uh, I didn't proofread this chapter. . . so . . . eh, sorry. But it's like a 7 page Word doc, come on! I didn't want to read this monster** _ **twice**_ **, I read it when I wrote it! …that being said, I am an advocator of proofreading. Also a hypocrite. Whoopsies.**


	5. Waiting

**Welcome to chapter 5, todos! Worry not, slow as the updates may be, they're still updates. Yes? Yes.**

 **Now read.**

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Light was pacing in his room while his mind went crazy. It was already 2 in the morning which meant that L had had at least 4 hours to watch some of the recordings of Light's behavior from previous days as well as the footage Watari watched of the two of them together. It made sense to Light that L didn't want him to be in the building with him while he investigated, so he wasn't upset that L had sent him home.

But it had been 5 hours since Light left. Shouldn't L know by now? He should. He really should.

Wouldn't L call him?

Light made a point to pace once in front of the camera's field of view so that L knew he was awake.

Nothing; he didn't get a phone call.

He paced again next to the door and looked straight at where he knew the camera monitored his bedroom door. Now L would know that Light knew that L knew he was awake.

Nothing again.

He was losing his mind.

He should have just confessed and let himself get rejected or accepted.

Light took another loop around his room and collapsed on his bed around 3.

"This is the worst," he whined into his pillow as he covered his head with his hands. He wanted to sleep, but his nerves wouldn't let him and he almost felt like he needed to vomit.

Maybe he was hungry.

He decided that was a task he could actually accomplish and pushed himself off his bed and headed to the kitchen.

"Sayu?" he asked as he got to the kitchen and saw his sister cooking at the stove with all of the lights on.

"Mhmm?" she asked, nonchalant, as if it was totally normal to be up at 3 in the morning cooking . . . something that smelled excellent.

"What is that?" he asked, already distracted.

"Scrambled tofu with tomatoes, spinach, garlic, lemon, soy sauce, and a bit of sesame seed oil," she answered as she turned around with a smile.

If he wasn't salivating before, he was now.

Sayu giggled, "Do you want some?"

"Yes," he answered immediately before remembering he was supposed to be polite, "I mean, if there's enough."

"There is; I thought you might be hungry too."

"My bad," he apologized, knowing she probably heard him pacing and grumbling to himself for the past however many hours it had been.

"Oh, it's fine; I usually get up around this time on weekdays anyway."

Light grumbled as he took a seat, "You'd get along well with L."

"You mean Ryuuga?" she smiled knowingly, setting down a filled bowl in front of her brother.

"Yeah, him," he groaned. What did it matter if she knew? She already knew.

"I might not after all the anxiety he's putting you through," she answered, turning around to grab chopsticks and two glasses of tea.

"I'm the one putting me through it," he admitted, accepting the chopsticks.

She plopped down in the seat across from him and began eating, "You didn't tell him."

"I gave him a chance to figure it out," he informed. "What kind is this?" he asked after sniffing the tea.

"Chamomile with almond milk," she answered before agreeing, "I think he would like the challenge of figuring you out."

"This is really good," he complimented.

"The tea or the food?"

"Both."

Sayu smiled proudly and took a giant mouthful.

"Oh, good morning my children," Sachiko smiled as she joined them wearing her house coat and slippers.

"Good morning?" Light asked, wondering why on earth both his mother and sister woke up at this unsightly hour. Seriously, L would love them; he wouldn't have to waste time letting them adjust to his hours.

She kissed both him and Sayu on the cheek before sitting down with a cup of tea of her own.

"Light hasn't been to sleep yet, mom," Sayu informed.

Sachiko looked worried for a moment before she fell thoughtful and asked with a sad smile, "Boy trouble?"

Light groaned and let his head fall to the table. Why was everything infinitely more embarrassing when asked by _mom_?

"It's okay, honey, just be yourself," Sachiko offered sincerely, sipping her tea.

Sayu hid her giggles when she heard Light grumbling to himself.

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Their mother had forced him into bed after they finished eating and talked about normal topics and not—thank whatever god there was—his love life . . . slash lack thereof.

And she did _force_ him; she'd tucked him in and everything as she did when he was a small child. He didn't want to admit that it helped, but he did quickly fall asleep only to be awoken a few hours later by the sun piercing through his blinds, not by his anxiousness.

He debated for a long time if he should go in to the investigation tower today or if he should await L's call. They should have set something up—anything was better than not knowing what his own next move should be. He didn't want to pace around in his room doing nothing, so he got ready for the day by showering and primping as usual. He decided that he would walk in the direction of the tower and stop at a café or a bookshop.

Or both, as it turned out. He bought a book he saw in a bookstore's window about some futuristic trans-human dystopia and then settled himself in the corner of a café with a cup of black tea (and _no_ sugar, thank you very much). After five chapters in, he was pleased with his decision today; he needed a mindless distraction.

After four more chapters and another cup of tea, he began to feel anxious again: morning was over and the afternoon had begun. That translated to about a thousand years of waiting time. How long could it _possibly_ take for L to figure out that he had disturbingly strong feelings for the (supposed) best three detectives in the goddamn world? Misa, his father, and Watari had figured it out already, L needed to hurry up and get on their level. . .

. . . but what if that wasn't the cause for the delay? Light smashed his nose into the book to hide his face as his mind dug into wounds. What if it was the worst outcome and L was now uncomfortable – no, disturbed – nay _repulsed_?! Light had never been considered gross, look at him! He's beautiful! Who wouldn't want that?!

What if L was the one person that didn't want that? Light sat the open book on top of his head, mindlessly letting it brush back his hair as he stared intently at the floor—which had an ugly purple rug, by the way—did L find him undesirable? Jeez that would be his luck: everyone wants him _except_ the one he wants. Yeah, that sounded right.

He let the book shut without bothering to mark his place and put his hands over his face. What had he done to deserve this torture?!

. . .

. . .

. . . _besides_ murder a couple heinous criminals?

. . . right, right, a couple _hundred_ heinous criminals.

His thumb found his bottom lip in a very L-like manner as he pondered anew: perhaps he _did_ deserve this.

No. His thumb dropped and he shook his head. No, no one deserved _this_. Why did he keep putting himself in these limbo situations? He slouched a bit in his chair and stared out the window at nothing. He knew one thing for sure: This. Sucked.

He took a breath to calm his brain and maybe curb in his mind. He grabbed onto his tea mug and held onto it, bringing it to his face to breathe in the aroma. Did he really want to know what L had to say? As horrible as his imagination was, as long as he didn't know, then he could hope. And of course he _was_ still hoping for the best of the best, even while his mind was obsessing over the worst of the worst.

"Agh!" he groaned again, throwing his head back.

"You may want to set your mug down, dear," came a scratchy voice he didn't recognize.

Embarrassed that his outburst had been witnessed—apparently he was _not_ alone in the world . . . or even in this café—he lowered his mug and sheepishly looked at the elderly woman who had had the balls to speak to him (or, decidedly, _didn't_ have balls). He blushed for an unknown reason: this woman looked ancient.

And if she was at least 80 as he suspected, she certainly had to have accumulated _some_ wisdom, right?

What did he have to lose?

"You," he said quickly, not giving himself time to change his mind, "Can I get your advice?"

The woman grinned, letting close to a thousand new wrinkles appear on her face. She shuffled over to the padded chair next to him and slowly sat in it. She then looked at him with open eyes, allowing him to look directly into hers.

"Are you blind?" he slipped out, in awe at the very progressed cataracts in both of her eyes. He quickly corrected himself, "Ah! I mean, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude." He felt his cheeks burn again. He'd asked someone he didn't know for advice and then immediately insulted her. He was so frazzled over his current situation that he wasn't acting like himself at all.

"No worries, dear; life is far too short to worry over formalities," she answered, smiling. She continued with, "Yes and no regarding my vision: I have only peripheral vision left."

Light cleared his throat, "Well, they're pretty, any way."

The woman laughed, flattered, "Now, do you really think so?"

"Yes," he replied, tugging at his hair, why was this so embarrassing? "They're blue." He'd never seen blue eyes on an Asian before, let alone a woman so extremely old.

"You are quite the sweet heart aren't you, dear?" she laughed, waving her hand as if to dismiss the topic, "Now what is it that's bringing trouble to such a fine young man?"

Light sunk back in his chair, keeping his eyes on the woman's, "Well, it's an accumulation, really."

She said nothing, only waited patiently for him to explain. He told her about how he came to fall in love with another man, a man he really _couldn't_ be with if all played out as they should. He told her that he had done horrible things—the worst she could think of and then some, he assured. He told her about their intelligence and did his best not to brag nor sugar coat. Then he told her what he'd allowed L to do: figure it out himself.

"The waiting game," she nodded after she listened to his whole story. He'd left out only that he was Kira and that his love was for L; he couldn't stop talking once he'd begun, it just felt so good to finally tell someone _everything_ (…minus being Kira, but as he'd said, he'd done horrible things).

"It's killing me!" he whined, grabbing his hair.

"Now, now, I think you have done just about everything right; it is hard to admit your feelings, but it sounds to me that your Mr. Hideki is the kind of man that likes to solve puzzles."

"Yeah, but I didn't tell him because I was scared, not because I thought he'd like the challenge."

"A happy coincidence," she stated, waving her hand again. "And stop fussing over the thought that he was using you: I am sure he was unaware of your feelings; those who are extremely intelligent are typically not intelligent in the social area."

"I _know_ ," he whined, pulling tangles out of his hair, "I just can't stop hating myself right now."

"Have you tried writing it all out?"

"Eh?" he asked, stupidly.

"Writing, sweetie, with a pen and paper," she explained, wondering if perhaps the youth these days only used computers.

"Why would that help?" He'd never thought to write everything out. How could that possibly accomplish anything?

"Dear, do you feel better talking with me? Don't lie, now, I can't bother to be offended."

"I – I mean, yeah, I do," he agreed, his voice quiet.

"And you asked for my advice, so here it is: write down your feelings and what you need to admit."

"No one else has to read it?"

"Of course not! Just remember— _always_ remember—never write anything that you do not want anyone to see. At least burn it after if you absolutely cannot have anyone looking at it. It's safe to assume written things will be read," she advised.

He sighed, letting some anxiety flow out with the exhale. It couldn't hurt. "Okay, I can do that."

"Good," she nodded, "and another piece of advice, dear: life is too long to lie all the time."

He found himself blushing again; this woman could read him like a book yet she was essentially blind. "I thought you said life was too short," he retorted.

She chuckled and replied, "Yes, it _is_ too short, but it's the longest thing you'll ever do."

"That's sly," he mumbled, shaking his head. "May I ask your age?"

"How old do you think?" she asked, with an impish grin.

"Uhh," he hesitated, knowing how weird women were about age, "Eighty two?"

She let out a bark of a laugh, "Honey, honey! Didn't I tell you one shouldn't waste time being polite?"

"Uh," he said, oh so eloquently. He had guessed honestly . . . how old was this woman?

"I will be one hundred and three years old in just two months," she smiled hugely, letting her wrinkles deepen and branch.

"Shit," he muttered, his eyes wide. She _was_ ancient. He really should heed her advice . . . she didn't seem to be senile, after all.

"Thank you, boy," she laughed.

"No, thank you, really," he replied, feeling eons better than when he'd left the tower the day prior.

She smiled and pushed herself to a stand.

"If you insist on being polite even still, then I suppose I'll tell you that you are very welcome, dear boy," she answered, rustling his hair with her hand. Normally he hated that, but he didn't mind so much right now.

She smiled warmly once more and turned to leave. He found himself calling after her, "Light!" he called, "My name is Light."

Without turning around, she called back with her scratchy voice, "And what a warm name it is!" He couldn't see her face, but he knew she was smiling still.

He shook his head and sunk back into the chair. Maybe he should go back to that bookstore and buy a journal . . . he certainly had much to write.

"Fine," he conceded, chugging the last of his tea; it was cold now anyway.

Without really meaning to, he returned to the same spot after buying a journal. It just felt like the right place to be. He dragged over a table and set his pen to the paper.

Then he wrote.

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 **Yes, that is an OC, no she does not have a name (sure, you can name her in your head if you want, I guess?) and yes she is human.**

 **Now that that's out of the way: Thank you for your concern about the guest reviewer who's been commenting on my stories that (she, I presume?) thinks I should go die, I'm a fag, go get aids, my stories suck, blah blah blah. No, I don't really care, and freedom of expression: I think she can say whatever the hell she wants, so I'm not deleting the reviews. Why should I? I don't care enough. But thank you to those of you who were concerned and private messaged me to make sure I was okay—I am super, thanks for asking.**

 **Now, who knows that reference? ; )**

 **再见**

 **~Aia~**

 **附：我说中文说的不好， 我是学生。因此， 我必须练习。（我的西班牙语** **es mucho mejor que mi chino. Esto es porque tengo mucho más práctica con español** **.** **）**


	6. Dear L

**Wow, that was quick! Yes, I know; thank you for the recognition.**

 **This chapter directly follows the last one.**

 **Enjoy! . . . or don't, up to you, I reckon 'spect.**

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 _Dear L,_

 _I have no intention of ever, repeat, ever letting you read this, but I didn't know how else to start this. Actually, I've never written a journal entry—or_ anything _personal, for that matter—so I don't really know how this is supposed to work . . . is there a set pattern or something? I should have read Sayu's diary when I had the chance just to see how she formatted it._

 _Well, whatever, I guess. I think I'm just formatting it off of the only personal documentation I've ever read . . . which, uh, happens to be Anne Frank's. This . . . this feels wrong now._

 _Well, whatever, again._

 _I'll just write this to you, the you who will not actually ever read this, since you're the reason I'm writing this in the first place._

 _Um._

 _Well._

 _I love you._

Light had hesitated greatly at those words. He didn't want to write them; it made them so real. His cheeks had reddened and his pulse had increased just thinking about it. His body released a trace amount of sweat after he'd written those three words. He felt himself smile: the woman had been correct, he certainly felt good getting that out. He felt like he had no reason to lie or omit any truths. No one was going to read it but him, so why not _finally_ be completely honest?

 _Yeah, that's right: I love you. I'm not exactly sure when I started feeling this way about you nor am I sure when I finally realized it, but I'm quite aware of it now to the point that it's at the forefront of my mind. I seriously can't seem to do anything else: I'm not even acting like myself. Yes, we both know how many masks I wear, but you damn well know that those masks are a part of my personality . . . and I don't even know which to wear; you've got me so flustered._

 _Ugh, I just reread that and it's really fucking embarrassing. Not that you'll actually read this, so I suppose it's fine. Truths. Being completely honest is difficult; you should try this sometime too. I bet you'd suck at it more than I do._

 _Misa asked if I wanted to kiss you: I do. You have no idea how much. I doubt you'll ever be comfortable with the amount of time I've spent imagining kissing you. I stare at you from the side when we're "working" on the case and I know you've noticed and I know you think that I'm sizing you up, since I'm Kira—and I am Kira, you damn well know—but I'm not sizing you up, I'm imagining how detrimental it would be to just lean over and catch those lips you're always touching._

 _And why are you ALWAYS touching them? Do you have any idea how tantalizing that is? It's as if you're trying to test my self-restrain . . . maybe you are; I keep going over situations in my mind where you DO know and you've just been . . . toying with me. You are manipulative and cruel, but everyone keeps assuring me that you aren't doing that to me, so for now, I'll believe that (because that's what I want to believe). But really, you touching your lips just makes me want to touch them even more._

 _That bothered me at first, since, you know, we're both men. Perhaps you think me a boy, though . . . regardless, it frustrated me. Why did it have to be you? Why couldn't it be Misa? That would be easier. Uh, my dad gave us his blessing, by the way. Eh, and so did my mom and sister. I think Watari may have as well._

Light coughed aloud at that: it seemed everyone but the one involved knew. He was more lucky than not, he knew, since his family was undisturbed by the situation. Now, if only L were the same.

 _Not that there is an "us," but . . . well . . . I wish there were. Shoot, I'm thinking about your lips again. I do want to keep this writing PG, mostly since I am in a public café, but also because the thought of actually writing all the things I want to do with you is far too embarrassing. I don't . . . want to get carried away with this. I am a man, you know._

 _Oh man, being handcuffed was truly cruel, you realize? I already had some feelings for you—feelings I was TRYING to ignore at that point, thank you so much—and then you decide we're going to be chained together. We slept in the same bed, L; do you have ANY idea whatsoever what that did for my imagination?! My thoughts had never been so lewd. That is, until we also SHOWERED together. God, L, honestly my poor hormonal body. I'm so proud of my reserve or else . . . or else you would have quickly figured out how I felt about you (or, at least, how my body felt about you . . . feels about you, rather)._

 _I should stop rereading what I write: I'm getting really embarrassed AND my mind is now thinking about the things I'd like to do with our bodies._

 _Oh god, that was embarrassing too._

 _Did the metal from the cuff scar your wrist too? I actually . . . I really like it. I'm sure you thought I'd be mad, since I'm picky about my appearance, but I think it's the perfect addition: like I was always meant to be marked by you. Is that sappy? It is sappy . . . ah, whatever._

 _Want to know the biggest secret? (Well, I guess, minus being Kira). I thought you were really cute the first time I saw you. Not in a "I'm going to knock you down and kiss all the skin on your face" kind of way, but in a "I want to pet your hair and see if it's soft . . . and if it is I am going to put my face in it—good luck stopping me" kind of way. And then when we played tennis together and when you told me you were L . . . I thought you were fucking hot. That bothered me a lot, especially since I was Kira, but the look in your eyes, the look on your face, your dead set determination . . . ah, I should stop thinking about that, my body's beginning to react._

 _You probably only care about the Kira thing, so let me explain: you were correct. I was too smart and too bored for my own good—I really do need you to stay sane—and when I saw something fall from the sky while I was staring out the window during class, I had to pick it up. It said that the person's whose name was written in the notebook would die. I didn't believe it at first, so I tried it on this criminal that I had heard about . . . a really mean guy. He got out of a death sentence because of too few witnesses._

 _So I went to see him; he hung out in a shady pub about an hour train ride from my house. He . . . he was just a waste of a human life. I heard him telling his buddies about how he had killed the girl, how the knife felt as he sliced her skin, how he enjoyed the sounds of her screams . . . it was sickening. Then he noticed me; I wasn't careful enough. He came at me. I left and tried to get away, but he followed me, saying he'd kill me the same way, saying he'd feel the same wonderful feeling when I too would scream from the slicing._

 _I wrote his name. I still didn't think it would work, but it was the best shot I had—I was really scared, L._

 _It did work._

 _It worked._

 _It had saved my life._

 _Can you believe it? I couldn't at first, even after I had seen it with my own eyes. I had lived because of that notebook. I had lived when I should have died by the hands of a man that should have been killed by the justice system, but couldn't since the only true witness had been killed. Who else had been spared because I killed this sorry excuse of a man? Who else would he have killed? How many people did I save?_

 _That thought took over my mind. I don't know if it was because of the death note or because of me (or both), but I did obsess over it. How many MORE people could I save? How many more innocent people could live simply by writing the name of a criminal?_

 _Then it got bad. This is when I think the death note may influence decisions, because you know I'm usually level headed. Well, I wasn't level headed. I got mad that someone had challenged me (I'm talking about you, L, if you couldn't tell) and I got mad that I was being followed and I got mad that you suspected me. 7% is a low percent, but it really isn't when you were able to put a 7% possibility on one person out of ALL the people in the world. That's a scary high number, L._

 _Shit, you're so smart, I love it._

 _But I got mad, because I was obsessed with killing and I was convinced that I was the good guy—black and white was all I could see. When really, we're both right. I know you agree with Kira. You know I agree with you. But, YOU are justice, bound by law, while I was a vigilante, operating outside of law._

 _Was. Past tense._

 _You know I haven't been killing._

 _Want to know why?_

 _It's killing you, isn't it?_

 _Haha, I know it is, so I'll stop tormenting you now: I want to be with you._

 _Want. Present tense._

 _I didn't want to upset you . . . I didn't want you to catch me. We became friends, I developed a crush, I fell in love . . . all during your chase. I don't want to go back to the life I had without you, L. I don't want to be without you at all. I don't know how I lived so long without someone like you. Fuck, I love you, L; I just want to scream it until you understand, until you feel the same._

 _I met a woman who advised me to write this all out. She was right: I do feel better. L, she was really old! Over 100, L, she had so many wrinkles . . . ah, my vanity is showing, I didn't mean it in a condescending way; the wrinkles weren't ugly, they just, I don't know, they seemed to show status—high status. She seemed to think you would enjoy figuring out that I'm in love with you._

 _Have you figured it out? You must have . . . right? I hope you aren't repulsed . . . I really hope that you consider and . . . I really, really hope that you feel . . . the same._

Light felt his confidence slipping as his eyes began to water. If L rejected him, would he admit to being Kira? At least then he wouldn't have to live with the rejection. He shook his head at the morbidity of that thought. What if L _didn't_ reject him? Would he admit it then? Fuck.

 _Shit, you're killing me, L. The suspense is horrid. I should have just told you everything when I first officially met you . . . though, admittedly, that probably wouldn't have played out well: "Oh, you're L? Nice to meet you, I'm Light—some call me Kira—and I find you exceedingly attractive. I hadn't realized I was gay. Would you like to go out and grab a coffee, make out, and fuck?"_

 _That . . . that wouldn't have worked out. I suppose telling you straight out after all of this wouldn't have worked well either: "Hey, L, can I tell you something right quick? I was Kira, and then I forgot, and then I remembered, but oh! Oh yeah, I developed some really deep feelings for you, so deep in fact that I no longer have any ambitions as Kira and I really just want to go out with you, grab a coffee, and perhaps make out and fuck—does that sound like a decent plan to you?"_

 _Ah, it appears that I'm hopeless._

 _. . . I love you, L._

 _-Light_

He sighed, blushing heavily. _'That's, pretty honest,'_ he thought, rubbing his eyes. He stretched out his hand and reread it all. Yeah, it was honest. He looked out the window; the sun was low in the sky now, prompting him to check his watch: 7pm.

"Excuse me," he called toward the front, making eye contact with one of the baristas, "At what time does this café close?"

"3 in the morning for cleaning sir. We open again at 6am," she answered smoothly; she probably answered that question many times a day.

"Thank you," he said, flashing her a smile.

She seemed unaffected by the smile and just waved back with a practiced smile of her own; he suspected that she just wanted her shift to end. He sighed again.

Without really planning to, he began to doodle on the next clean page as he let his mind wander about aimlessly. He really couldn't get L out of his mind; he just wanted _him_. This was bothersome; how was he meant to function? Did people do this all the time? He began to feel more pity for all the girls who had ever had feelings for him . . . and for any boys, as the case may be. Love was an awful feeling, he felt more stupid simply for having these feelings: they blocked his ability to reason, logic, and compartmentalize. He could barely focus on tasks without his mind slipping back to L for over a year now. Perhaps he really was going insane?

He almost groaned aloud in frustration again, but he refrained, remembering the outcome every time he let it show. He snapped out of his trance and looked around; no one was staring at him (this time) so he let out a small sigh. He dropped his head back down and froze at what he'd drawn. He'd drawn L . . . of _course_ , of _fucking_ course. Now he was staring back at the image of L's eyes boring into his, the man's lips it a quirky little half grin, and his thumb nail between his canines.

The drawing was perfect. It was too perfect. Light blushed, he sometimes hated his talent; he _would_ draw a picture of L . . . looking a-fucking-dorable at that. Great. Just great.

He shut the journal immediately and pushed it away, letting his head fall flat onto the table top.

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

Light blinked awake his burning eyes. He hadn't remembered falling asleep, but it didn't take a genius to figure it out. He sat up, eyes shut, and rubbed his face—he didn't doubt it was red from the impression of the table. Then he opened his eyes and—

And oh shit.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

The _real_ L sat across from him in a crouch, eyes staring intently at the last page of the journal Light had just filled earlier that evening. He had definitely read the whole thing; L wouldn't skip ahead after reading the first page . . . it _was_ technically written to him . . . but . . . oh, shit.

Light felt his heart and stomach in his throat; his heart pounded too quickly and his breathing seemed to halt.

But when L finally spoke—still not looking at Light, only at the journal—Light felt his heart sink low and his breathing stopped for certain. His eyes burned again, not from exhaustion.

L had muttered, " _Disgusting_."

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

 **AH FUCKING CLIFFHANGERS AMIRITE?!**

 **Heh, that's what you get : P Fear not, though, this story isn't a sad story. I don't fucking** _ **do**_ **sad stories, so there. Tension? Yes. Heart wrenching? No. Suspense? Oh yes. Tragedy? No, no. I don't roll like that, homies.**

 **See you next chapter ; )**

 **~Aia~**


	7. Kiss You

**You're not going to waste your time reading this anyway after the way last chapter ended. I wouldn't either.**

 **Go forth.**

 **This chapter also takes place directly after the last one.**

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Oh no. Oh god. Oh fuck.

Disgusting? _Disgusting._ Light couldn't breathe; his chest was caving in, stabbing his heart and thoroughly breaking it. His eyes had glazed over, unseeing and burning hot with tears refusing to fall. What was he supposed to do now?

 _Something_ was disgusting. Was it his love? Was it who he'd been? Both? Something else? Everything else? No, god, fuck! What was he supposed to do now?! Was he supposed to let L explain? Was he supposed to _ask_?! He wanted to disappear, but he couldn't physically flee: L was too close. He _shouldn't_ flee either, with L knowing via written confession that he definitely was Kira—or had been, as the case may be.

What was disgusting? WHAT WAS IT?!

L directed his attention to Light when the boy finally made a sound as he took a shallow, desperate gasp for air.

"Ah, Light-kun," L stated simply in the same monotonous voice he always had. It was unreadable. _What was disgusting_? Light read nothing from his tormentor's tone.

Eyes still clouded, Light turned his head toward L's location. The tears immediately forced their escape and he hid his face behind his hands. L couldn't see him like this; he was already disgusting and now his eyes had betrayed him. God, god, god, why did it have to be like _this?!_

"Light?"

Light held the little breath he'd gotten, forcing himself to stay silent as the tears fell. He balled up protectively within the chair as his ribs convulsed, his muscles receiving mixed input as his body tried to inhale while he consciously denied the inflow of air: L could _not_ see him like this. No one could see him like this, _especially_ not L. This was too shattered of a state for anyone to see. His teeth clamped down on his bottom lip hard enough to force him to focus on _this_ sharp pain rather than _that_ engulfing pain.

He stiffened completely when he felt another pair of arms wrap around his head. A warm, bony body crouched next to his. A warm, unmoving torso pressed alongside him.

"Breathe," L whispered into Light's hair.

Light shook his head jerkily, finding motor control difficult. He couldn't let himself breathe right now, because he'd _sob_ if he tried.

L's arms tightened.

"I believe," L spoke quietly, "Light has misunderstood something."

Light remained still; he couldn't respond, he was too afraid of what pathetic sounds would fill the silence.

"I believe," L repeated, "Light may have been awake longer than I thought he was."

He received no response from the boy.

"Light knows that I occasionally talk to myself."

No response.

"Perhaps I spoke something aloud that upset Light?"

Light tightened the ball he'd turned himself into.

"Ah, I am correct."

Light whimpered almost inaudibly; his body couldn't handle the carbon dioxide building up.

He felt his hair being petted softly.

"I don't recall what it was I said, though, that could have upset you."

He received no response. He brushed back Light's hair and shifted slightly, enough for his lips to press themselves onto Light's forehead.

The boy jolted up, his eyes wide, red, and soaked. He had let out a surprised cough, his body finally ridding itself of the unusable air. His lungs forced in shaky and hurried uneven breaths.

L had kissed his forehead. But he was disgusting? Wasn't he? L had kissed him.

L had kissed him.

 _L_ had kissed _him_.

"Hello," L greeted, finally able to look Light in the eyes.

Light couldn't speak; his throat was tight and unforgiving, besides what was he to say even if he could speak? He'd already unwillingly told L everything there was to be said. It was L's turn.

"Disgusting," L finally stated.

He watched Light's eyebrows furrow instantly while the boy's breath came out harshly just to get stuck again.

"Ah, that is what I had said," L confirmed based off Light's reaction. His hand found the boy's cheek.

"I assure you, Light, you misunderstood."

L leaned in even closer to the boy he was still holding. He wrapped one hand around the back of Light's head, cradling it.

"Light," he whispered into his ear before he pulled back just enough to place another kiss on Light, this time on his cheek.

"Light," he repeated, now kissing the edge of the boy's eye; it tasted of salt.

" _You_ could never disgust me," the detective assured, placing his forehead onto Light's. He still cradled the boy's head with one hand, his other on his cheek. His thumb stroked away the tears.

Light let out another whimpered sound, trying to get L to answer the questions assaulting his mind. His breathing was finally regular, not _normal_ , but at least consistent.

"Light?" L asked. His thumb had found its way to Light's swollen lips and was now softly running along them.

He was met with the expected silence until Light responded, his voice almost silent, "L?"

"I," L answered, his eyes glancing down, staring at the lips he was stroking. He breathed in silently yet deeply: Light was utterly _intoxicating_.

"I," he repeated.

"I want to," he paused, jealous of his own thumb.

"Kiss you," he finished, now looking Light in the eyes.

Light's hands wound their way up to L's hair. His fingers weaved their way into the locks. He pulled, letting his lips meet L's.

Finally, _finally._ Thoughts were wiped from Light's mind: he was overloaded and completely captivated by the soft sweetness of L's lips _finally_ on his. He'd imagined kissing L so many times, countless times. He'd gone to bed fantasizing about rolling over and capturing these lips and he'd spent nights dreaming about it as a consequence.

His dreams were nothing next to reality. As much as his mind should have been prepared from all his fantasizing, it simply wasn't—couldn't be. He doubted he'd ever get used to this, but he'd love the opportunities to try.

One second felt like eternity and a mere instant at the same time. In his brain, so many synapses had exploded with activity, trying desperately to catalogue every sensation, that a single moment seemed infinite: the detail alone was simply _too much_ for just one moment. Conversely, no time could possibly be enough time: he and L kissing should never stop.

L was gripping his head tightly, one hand at the back, keeping Light's lips against his own, the other hand holding his jaw, caressing along the angle. The detective's breathing became audible the longer he responded to the kiss. Their lips fit together wonderfully no matter how they positioned them; L alternated which of his lips were between Light's, but he was beginning to favor Light's bottom lip between his so that he could pinch it.

Light exhaled with quiet sounds whenever L did this.

Light groaned out provocatively when he felt a dull nip of teeth followed by a warm, damp tongue playing against his lip. He felt fire burn in his abdomen when his own tongue ventured passed his parted lips to meet L's. The man tasted _delicious_ , far better than his imagination had assumed. He was a subtle sweet, the kind Light actually liked to savor. His tongue felt soft and smooth on his own, but rough enough to cause an enticing friction.

L turned Light's head by the jaw, allowing their mouths to seal and reopen while they explored these new sensations.

Their hands didn't move far from their locations: their brains were far too occupied to successfully do more than one action at a time. Light's brain decided that he wanted – nay, _needed_ – more. Without breaking their still going kiss, he uncurled his legs to reach out around L's crouching body. Once around, he wrapped his ankles together and pulled his legs toward himself, pulling L even closer.

Light now practically laid on the chair and L was between his legs laying on _him,_ essentially trapped in an erotic guard position. He could feel the man's chest rising and falling rapidly as he breathed. Skin was hot through their clothes.

Light tightened his legs, forcing them as close as they could be in the confines of the chair. _Now_ he let out what was unmistakably a heated moan. L bit down on Light's lip because of that same sensation. More synapses fired frantically.

The boy retracted his lip from L's teeth to tug his face closer. He bit L's lip before tilting his head further to deepen their kiss again.

L's hand finally slithered from Light's jaw down to the hem of his shirt, taking a detour to squeeze the boy's defined chest and firm ribs. His fingers slid under the hem and danced back up to Light's ribs, making the boy shiver and whimper the whole journey.

L's mouth muffled Light's loud moan when L's traveling hand groped his chest.

When L rubbed his thumb across the boy's nipple, Light arched up along L's for more friction. L gasped quietly at the sensation Light caused.

Light's legs squirmed when L's fingers decided to pinch.

"Yo: it's 3am; I know you know what that means."

Light jerked his head back and froze.

They were still in a public place.

They'd _been_ in a public place . . . the whole time.

The trance was broken.

. . . for a moment. One look at L and he was mesmerized. L was trying to catch his breath, he was red in the face, and he looked more disheveled than usual. He also looked like he could devour Light even now. And L was staring back at him, _not_ at the exhausted barista.

"Uh," Light began, his mind instantly searching for a lie to excuse such an indecent position . . . his mind failed: there was _no_ explanation for this position they were in other than the real explanation. And who was he kidding: the barista definitely knew; she'd _seen_ them. He had no idea how long they'd been publicly displaying their affection, but the barista definitely knew.

She raised her hand dismissively. With one hand on her hip she stated flatly, "No, don't waste my time lying: I don't care. Please untangle and leave so that I can clean up the place and leave too. I'm not saying you have to go home, but you gotta get outta here."

"Sorry!" Light squeaked. He hurriedly withdrew his hands from their nest in L's hair and spread his legs so L could escape.

L raised an eyebrow and absorbed Light's position as if debating whether he _should_ move/ _would_ move. The look on Light's face tempted him, Light's spread legs tempted him, Light's overall compliance practically _invited_ him, but he withdrew . . . not without scraping his fingers along the boy's stomach. Light saw the detective smirk when Light shivered again. L jumped off the chair and onto his feet, immediately hunching over and shoving his hands into his pockets.

Light . . . didn't want to stand. For . . . for reasons.

. . . for _one_ reason.

The barista shut her eyes for a moment as if she were going to roll them, but was too tired even for that.

She sighed and directed her words to Light, "Alright, I'll give you until I clean off the counters to settle down."

She looked at L, pointed across the room, and put more authority into her voice when she said, "You go stand over _there_ ; I don't trust you."

"Fair," L mumbled, sauntering over to where she'd pointed. He wasn't exactly trustworthy.

The barista strolled back to the counter.

While she cleaned, Light did his best to remember how to turn off manual breathing as well as how to turn off . . . being turned _on_.

He was successful enough to stand up without completely embarrassing himself. L followed him as he walked toward the door.

"Ah, Light!" the barista called, sounding more awake than before.

"Eh, yes?" Light replied confusedly as turned to face her. He wasn't concerned with the lack of honorific—she'd earned the right to informality—he was concerned that she may know him, but he couldn't remember having met her before today . . . er, _yesterday_ , as it were.

"Your journal," she answered, tilting her head to the journal he'd left forgotten on the table.

"I'll get it," L volunteered, walking back over to get it.

"How . . . do you know my name?" Light asked, trying to fix his hair.

L returned with the journal when she answered, "You yelled it at the woman earlier; sound travels, you know," she paused as if debating whether or not she wanted to say more. She must have decided yes, for she continued with her mouth in a slight grin, "I assume this is 'your Mr. Hideki.'"

Light felt his heart smack his chest. He fumbled for words, but she held up her hand again and interrupted before he could lie once again, "Ah, I already told you that I don't care. Good bye now, Light, _Hideki_."

She was teasing him and he knew it, but he blushed as they left anyway.

Light cleared his throat, not sure what to say or even if he should say a thing.

The decision was made for him when his lips were caught once again by L's here in the middle of the sidewalk. This kiss was shorter . . . _too_ short: Light suspected he was becoming addicted.

L pulled back slightly to speak. "Light doesn't want to go back home does he?" L asked. Their lips brushed as he spoke.

"No," he answered. His limp arms tingled; they wanted to reach for L, not idly do nothing.

L moved first, his hands grabbing Light's hips just under the hem of his shirt.

"Investigation tower?" L asked, pulling Light's body against his.

"Y-yes," he answered, his voice cracking, exposing his lack of control.

"Good," L said firmly, pulling him in for a deeper kiss before he grabbed Light's hand to walk back to the tower.

The tower was only a ten minute walk from the café, but it turned into twenty five as the two constantly stopped along the way to taste and explore each other. They either ignored or forgot that they were still outdoors and visible, but since it was so late—or early—it didn't really matter since no one sober was out.

They got through the door to the investigation tower still connected by the mouth and hands grabbing wherever they could. They stumbled to the elevator, both panting and only focused on one thing – as men tend to do.

Fortunately, the elevator ride was long, long enough for them to have a heated make-out session against the wall, on the ground, and on the ground again, but flipped. The elevator dinged, alerting them that this was fun, but it could be _more_ fun on a soft surface—yes, _that's_ what the ding told them. And so they hurried out into the hallway and into the room they had shared for so long.

"Light," L huffed, trying to regain a lick of composure.

The boy paused, listening.

"I think you should read through this," L panted, pulling the journal out of his waistband.

Light didn't look pleased. He practically whined, " _Now_?" They were kind of . . . _busy_ , already. Light was very much enjoying all the attention his lips and his body were getting from L.

"Yes," L stated, pulling Light's lips back to his. Between nibbles, he explained, "I – 'm no expert – but - I think – what we're going to – do – will be better – mn – if you do."

Completely controlled, Light whined again, " _Fine_." Before snatching the journal, he first placed a kiss on L's nose.

He giggled when the detective blushed through his already flushed face.

L cleared his throat and instructed, "Start from the back."

Light opened the back of the journal and sank down to the floor as the words, written in beautifully flawless calligraphy, enchanted him:

 _Dear Light,_

 _I too have neither written a journal entry, nor been completely honest. As I do expect you to read this, I doubt that I will be as open as you have been, but, regardless, I shall be truthful (or else, why bother to write this?) You are sleeping now and I feel comfortable as I watch you; I always am comforted by your calm sleep-state. I must admit that I never expected to find you sleeping here in a public location, but yet here you are. I do not think you will rouse soon, so I shall write until I am finished. After all, you did not wake up the first five minutes while I was eating a pastry (delicious, by the way, we must come back here again) and reading your journal entry (and I was not being overly quiet)._

 _I apologise in advance if I ramble; like I stated previously, I too have never written a journal entry. I suppose I should not refer to these as journal entries, since they are both addressed as letters. The few morals I have tell me that one should not read a personal article without reason, but I digress: you addressed your entry to me._

 _I am angry right now. I am angry at myself for taking so long to understand what it was that was distracting you and what it was that you had wanted to tell me. I cannot believe that I missed the opportunity to be confessed to. You should well know that I have never been anyone's love interest, and I certainly have never had any of my own._

 _It took me too long to realise what these feelings of mine were; I have never experienced such feelings before. For the same reason, I did not recognise your feelings for me. I am upset with myself for taking so long to figure it out._

 _I am a bit disgusted with myself: I was around you for so long and I forced you into such uncomfortable situations without even realising. Honestly, I do apologise for the trouble._

 _I too tried to ignore the feelings that I did not understand. You, Light, are the most beautiful creature I have ever had the good fortune of seeing. The masks you wear have been crafted to perfection throughout your life and they fit you and your personality (rather, your personalities). You would be a fitting image of a god in any piece of artwork. Please do not let that go to your head, Kira._

 _You are so beautiful. I too was shocked when first I saw you in person. I did not understand why._

 _I love watching you think; you are most beautiful when you are thinking deeply. You are as calculating and strategic as I am. And you are correct when you say that I agree with Kira just as Kira agrees with me. I am sure, with a one hundred percent certainty, that I would have ended up doing the same to criminals had I been the first to find a death note. It is only because I was a bystander that I understood the flaw and the horrors. I know that you understand now as well, as you have been separated from the addiction and influence of the death note._

 _I am still angry. I am still disgusted. Not at you, Light, never truly at you. How could I have not known for so long? How could I have ignored the signs, labelling them as unimportant? Now that I know, I wish I had known immediately._

 _I love you, Light._

 _I love you, and I am disturbed at how delighted I am that we have mirrored scars from the cuffs. I too am pleased that you have been marked._

 _Now I understand what you meant when you wrote that this felt sappy._

 _Oh, Light._

 _If I were to live forever, I would only ask that forever be with you._

 _If I were to live for one second longer, I would ask only to spend that second with you._

 _What have I let you do to me?_

 _And your drawing, Light. I never knew you were gifted artistically as well. Besides being honest, is there anything at which you do not excel? I intend to find out._

 _Is that . . . is that how I look in your mind's eye? I admit: it brought a flush to my face. I believe that you think me far more handsome than I really am. That smile is reserved for your eyes only, Light._

 _Oh, I see what you mean by not rereading, for I find myself flushing once again. It appears true that I do suck more than you at being honest, but I assure you, nothing I have written nor will write is false._

 _You flatter me, Light. Did you mean to flatter me so much through your letter? My lips distract you, do they? Have you ever seen yourself, Light? . . . silly question, we both know of your vanity. While watching the recordings yesterday, I did notice how you would watch me touch my lips. I never noticed, I admit, before yesterday._

 _But I want to touch yours._

 _. . . now I understand why you wrote of keeping PG thoughts._

 _I got a chuckle from your imagined greeting. I do not know how well that would have played in your favour had you asked me out for sex upon first introduction. I cannot keep myself from informing you that we are currently out at a café and though neither one of us has had coffee, I see that you have had tea and I have indulged in that pastry I mentioned . . . that is two of your requests completed. If I am not mistaken, that only leaves make out and fuck._

 _Oh. PG. PG. One should not think of sex with you Light, if they do not wish to become intensely and obviously aroused._

 _I did not intend to leave you waiting for so long in this purgatory of questioning; I just could not quite believe that you . . . well, that you actually had feelings for me. I too was left with questions and doubts after our talk yesterday:_

 _Are you messing with me?_

 _Are you planning something horrible?_

 _I did not fully understand my feelings until I watched all of the recordings of our times together. The feeling in my chest could not be ignored. I thought, perhaps, you were going to inform me that I had fallen for you._

 _What if you didn't like me at all?_

 _What if you were lying, like we do so often?_

 _So I talked to Misa. I know, that sounds just as absurd as when I originally thought to do so. The talk was fruitful, Light, she cleared up many doubts._

 _She does like to talk, though, as you know, which is one of the reasons I was so delayed in contacting you._

 _You can relax: I was unaware of your feelings, I was not toying with you, and I_ do _feel the same way you do, if your letter is a fair indication._

 _It was a pleasant read, by the way; I enjoyed taking a walk through your mind. And thank you for explaining how you came to be Kira. It was killing me, so thank you. I understand and I empathise._

 _I am not as upset over this as one would think I should be. As we have both come to understand, our basic principles align and I would have acted the same._

 _I do not want you to go back to the life you had before we met. I would think that sentence to be selfish had you not been the first to say it. I cannot be without you now that I have met you—that would be too cruel of a fate. I never realised how boring life is without you in it._

 _Oh, yes, that is sappy._

 _It appears that I am hopeless, too._

 _Since your family already accepts us, I propose that we find hope together._

I _love_ you _, Light._

 _-L_

"Are you crying again, Light?" L asked, crouching next to the boy on the ground.

Ah, so he was.

"Um, yes," Light answered. He was so relieved after having read L's letter to him.

"You are not sad, are you?" he asked with a concerned head tilt.

"Not at all," Light smiled, touching L's hand with his.

L interlocked their fingers and informed, "If you turn the page . . ."

Now it was Light who tilted his head. He turned the page and immediately felt his cheeks heat up in a blush. "Is this how I look in _your_ mind's eye?"

He was now staring himself in the eye: L's drawing of him was _magnificent_. Light was vain and naturally good looking, but the appeal of this drawing couldn't be expressed with words. The eyes seemed to glow, showing the same depth that Light always saw in L's. The expression was one of easy confidence along with a cocky smirk, one that mimicked L's.

"L, this is," Light hesitated, trying not to come across as narcissistic, "This is _really_ good."

"I know."

"Che, arrogant," Light mumbled. He flipped the page over once more and found that their drawings of each other were on opposite sides of the same sheet. He chuckled at that. They'd completely filled the journal.

L was blushing now too, stroking his thumb along the back of Light's hand.

"Hey," Light prompted, getting L's attention back to his face instead of on his hand.

"Yes, Light?"

"So, then, um," Light fussed with his hair and looked away from L's eyes, "What was disgusting?"

"Oh."

"Oh?"

"Well," L stated, also avoiding Light's eyes.

"Well?" Light pushed forward, needing to know.

Instead of answering, L turned back a few pages in the journal and pointed to one sentence:

 _One should not think of sex with you Light, if they do not wish to become intensely and obviously aroused._

Light began to giggle.

"It's not funny," L mumbled, turning his face to the side in embarrassment. He had just finished his drawing and he'd been fantasizing about the boy the whole time. When he finished, he realized the . . . effect . . . that the fantasizing had caused him while he was sitting in a public café next to the boy he'd been fantasizing about! And Light had been _asleep_ during this! He was angry at his body and disgusted that his brain had let it happen!

"It _is_ funny," Light disagreed, throwing himself onto L to bring their lips together.

Minutes passed, the journal and clothes discarded on the floor, before the two finally stumbled/crawled their way to the bed.

"Light," L panted, keeping their lips together.

"Nn?"

"I love you."

Light smiled the most beautiful smile L had ever seen. He pulled L's body tight against his own in an embrace.

Light responded, " _I_ love _you_."

They shared an emotion filled smile before Light wrapped his legs around L as he had done back at the café.

"Now," L began, "I do believe we have one more thing to do before Light's date request is fulfilled."

Light laughed and pulled L even closer.

"Proceed," he smirked flirtatiously.

' _Invitingly,'_ L corrected, obliging.

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 **Whew! That was a good one ; ) Most of this chapter was typed while I listened to Lindsey Stirling, by the way (this isn't essential information, but it is information nonetheless).**

 **Sorry, not sorry: there will be NO lemon in this story, but there WILL be an epilogue. Wow. I'm pleased with myself: this is the first chaptered story I've ever finished. Yay yay ^ . ^ I'm also proud of myself for never once using the word erection - except for right there . . . Still a victory.**

 **Sorry, not sorry for the cliffhanger last chapter, methinks it was worth it.**

 **~Aia~**

 **p.s. I tried to write L's letter with British English, since, well,** _ **he's**_ **British. I think I got every z to s and o to ou but some may have slipped by.**

 **p.p.s. every time I write "British," I first write "Brittish," and I stare at it, because I know it's wrong, but can't figure out why . . . I do the same with "Australlia."**

 **Thank you for reading!**


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